


Smith and Wesson

by magicbubblepipe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Frotting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicbubblepipe/pseuds/magicbubblepipe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might not be such a terrible life after all... <br/>(supply closet fun times)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smith and Wesson

            Sam Wesson is in a state of shock. Not only did he and some dude he’s been dreaming about for weeks just slay a ghost but now he’s being pulled roughly into a supply closet by said dude who is now pressing him up against the wall. He hardly has time to gasp before a hot mouth is covering his own, his chest pressed tightly to that of Dean Smith. His heart is hammering, adrenalin still thumping through his veins so he opens his mouth to Dean’s questing tongue and groans.

            It’s something Sam hadn’t even acknowledged that he wanted but now that he had it, it was so fucking good. When they broke for air, dizzily breathing in each other’s breath, Sam says, “I thought you said you weren’t-

            “I’m not,” Dean cuts him off, his voice gone even gruffer with want, “Well, I wasn’t.”

            Sam huffs out a soft laugh of disbelief. “Me too.”

            The electric charge between them is overpowering and their mouths inevitably seal back together as if pulled by magnets. The thought of Dean’s pretty lips on his own makes Sam a little weak in the knees and he sucks the plump bottom one into his mouth and rolls it between his teeth. Dean grunts and presses tighter against the other man, his hard cock digging into Sam’s upper thigh. He can feel an answering hardness jerk and grind into the hollow of his hip.

            With desperate fingers, Dean goes for the bottom of Sam’s yellow work shirt, tugging it quickly out of the band of his pants and sliding curious hands underneath to palm the firm planes of Sam’s stomach. “Fuck, you’re ripped,” he almost growls, his voice appreciative, “What diet are you on?”

            “Whatever I can find in the fridge,” Sam says laughingly and grabs Dean by his suspenders, hauling him back close so he can lick into his open mouth. His hands slide down Dean’s sides, curve around his back and dip into his pants to cup the plush cheeks of his ass through the thin cotton barrier of his undershorts. Dean’s body gives a violent jerk, crushing their erections together and the friction is so good he can’t help but roll his hips, panting into Sam’s mouth. His hands slide further up under the taller man’s shirt to find his nipples which he rubs hard with his thumbs as he bites and licks at soft, swollen lips.

            “Dean,” Sam breathes, arching into the touches, needing more contact. “Dean, I need…”

            Dean shudders at the sound of his name, spoken deep and breathy from Sam’s lips and he nods, knowing what he’s trying to say. He steps back enough so that they can fumble their flies undone and pull themselves out. There’s a moment of silent awe between them before Dean steps right back into his space and lines them up. They bite back moans as skin meets skin and neither of them are going to last long. Sam takes one of his huge hands and wraps it around the both of them, squeezing their cocks together, holding them there in the heat of his palm before he begins to stroke.

            “Uuhnn, oh fuck, Sammy,” Dean swears into Sam’s neck where he’s trailing his lips and tongue and teeth.

            The earlier reprimand about that little nickname is forgotten because right now it sounds perfect to Sam’s ears, intimate and special. He works his hand over the heads, smearing pre-come on the down stroke, thumbing across the slits when he gets back to the top.

            “Dean…so pretty, Dean,” he babbles, his other hand taking up residence back on Dean’s ass, fingers kneading the thick muscles and sliding between the cleft. Dean’s bucking into his hand now, sliding against him and letting out little breathy moans that make him want to die.

            Dean feels his release building, curling low inside him, getting hotter and hotter. “Sam. I-I’m…”

            Sam’s getting there fast and he increases the pace of his hand, fervently jerking them both and crooning into Dean’s ear, “Yeah, come on. That’s it, Dean. Come for me.” He bites down on the lobe and that’s it for Dean. His body jerks, pleasure surging and spilling over as he fucks Sam’s hand through his orgasm, shooting stripes of come all over his shirt. He bites his lip to keep in the sounds he wants to make, just muffled grunts and whimpers escaping.

            One more hard pull aided by Dean’s come and Sam joins him over the edge, body spasming for what seems like an eternity. He doesn’t realize until he starts to come down that he’s crushing Dean tight against him like he might float away, hips rolling in lazy thrusts until he feels too sensitive to move. They finally pull apart, clothes sticky and ruined but neither can work up the energy to care. Sam is scared to meet Dean’s eyes, afraid that things will be suddenly awkward between them.

            That is until Dean says, “Now that…was the best fuck I’ve had in…I can’t even remember.”

            Sam’s eyes jerk up to meet Dean’s, a slow smile spreading over his face and dimpling his cheeks in a way that makes Dean’s heart stutter in his chest. “Do you get the feeling that…that you’ve needed that your whole life?”

            “Right?” Dean says excitedly, “I thought it was just me. Shit, man, I don’t know what we got goin’ on here but it’s pretty spectacular.”

            Sam laughs and he feels lighter than he has in ages. “Well, perhaps we can explore it a little more thoroughly tonight. I mean, I gotta go home to change my clothes anyway,” he says, gesturing to the colossal mess they’ve made. “If you wanna swing by…?”

            “Don’t have to ask me twice,” Dean replies with a grin, his hand meeting the seat of Sam’s pants with a resounding _smack._


End file.
